an audience of one
by doroniasobi
Summary: Edgeworth becomes a defence attorney. Gumshoe wonders why. — Edgeworth, Gumshoe


**notes** been sitting in my head for a while. written based off something my teacher said. :D

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><p><strong>an audience of one;<strong>

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><p>Friday afternoon found Detective Gumshoe bustling down the halls of the police department hurriedly with half a soft pretzel in his mouth and a greasy plastic bag sticking out of the pocket of his trench coat. He paused to greet Maggey with a charming smile and a "Hey, Maggey! Did you know it's the eleventh month of the eleventh day of the eleventh year today?"—and promptly dropped his pretzel, which he then accidentally kicked under the vending machine in his hurry—and rushed down the halls, passing the basketball net that still stood outside of Jacques Portsman's old office and knocking furiously on the door to Miles Edgeworth's office. When no one answered, he scowled and twisted the doorknob, pleasantly surprised when the door swung open easily. Miles Edgeworth was sitting at his desk, clearing out papers and different case files, muttering a "That's fine, Detective Gumshoe—just make yourself at home, like you always do, without my consent," when Gumshoe slammed his hands on the desk and looked him straight in the eye, startling Edgeworth, papers falling out of his hands and onto the floor.<p>

Edgeworth looked at the scattered mess before raising his gaze to meet Detective Gumshoe's. "And to what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, as Detective Gumshoe stared at the mess he'd caused Edgeworth to make.

"I—uh—sorry, Mr. Edgeworth. I think... I think I've been watching too many of your court cases." He thought about it for a while. "And uh, his, too. Porcupine head, I mean. Yeah. I'm... I'm sorry."

"I hope you're going to pick that up," Edgeworth admonished, raising his eyebrow. "You really should clean your own messes, Detective. Today, especially. Or else I'll have to remind the new prosecutor in charge of you to dock your paycheck."

"So—it's true, then?"

Edgeworth stood from where he was sitting. "Look around, Detective."

And Gumshoe did. The room's walls were bare, as though they'd never been there in the first place, and the shelves had been wiped clean, not a single speck of dust lingering. Gumshoe supposed half of the reason why was because he took the time to clean the room from time to time—but this time was different, the way he looked at it. This times, the shelves were empty—not a single case file or binder left, and when Gumshoe's gaze lowered, he found them, piled into different sized cardboard boxes. The coffee table that had originally been sitting near the door was folded and put aside, the chess set not far from it on the floor. Even all the trophies Edgeworth had received in the past were packed away.

Edgeworth's office, all of a sudden, looked very, very empty to Gumshoe's eyes. It looked too naked and felt too bare. Gumshoe felt a cold chill run down his spine, felt the hairs on the back of his neck fold and droop in what he could only describe as disappointment.

"So... you're leaving?"

The former prosecutor met his eyes. "Yes, I am."

"To become a defence attorney, Mr. Edgeworth?" Gumshoe heard the raise in his own voice. It all seemed very foreign, to him. It seemed very far away. It didn't _feel_ real.

Edgeworth said nothing; merely closed his eyes and smoothed out the creases in his cravat.

"Is this to satisfy your father, Mr. Edgeworth? Is this—is this to team up with... with _that_ guy? I—I don't understand. I'm—I know I'm stupid, but I—I really don't understand, Mr. Edgeworth. After all this time, was—was prosecuting people just—"

"It was an experience, Detective."

"Was—was it _just_ an experience, sir? I... I don't believe this."

"You don't want to believe this," Edgeworth corrected. Then he shook his head and sat back down. "I became a prosecutor of my own choice. I chose this path."

"But—"

"And I've chosen another one now," Edgeworth said firmly. "I'm not doing it for anyone but myself. I thought... it was about time, anyway. I needed change. No..." He smiled bitterly. "I was the one who changed, after that incident."

Gumshoe knew what he was talking about. "You mean... DL-6, sir?"

"I changed, and I thought I wanted to." He chuckled. "I was a fool."

"I was proud, to follow under a fool like you," Gumshoe said helpfully. "I... I was very proud, that you had authority over me, Mr. Edgeworth. Very, very proud. I bragged about it to everyone I know!"

"You're a different type of fool, Detective," Edgeworth pointed out.

"M-Mr. Edgeworth!"

"Prosecution... I thought it was justice," Edgeworth continued. "I thought it was something I could be proud of. In the end, it's what brought me down. And I've realized that now—now that _he's_ shown me. In the end, Detective, a defence attorney was what I always wanted to become. I wanted to protect."

"But you are protecting," Gumshoe said, "you are! You're protecting society, sir! From the people that are doing bad things."

"I was protecting, in a different way," Edgeworth told him, tilting his head forward in a small nod. "But I realized I wanted to fight alongside people. I wanted to seek the truth, not by putting them in jail, but by doing what I think is right."

Gumshoe said nothing. Edgeworth looked at him.

"Are you mad, Detective?"

Gumshoe sputtered. "No—yes, I mean, maybe, I—Mr. Edgeworth—"

"I asked you a question that required one of two answers you could have chosen. You fed me three and said my name." Edgeworth put his violin case down and sighed, a hand reaching up to massage his temple. "Now—what exactly is it you want, Detective? What did you come here for? To play a last game of chess? To clean my bookshelf?" He sighed.

Gumshoe stared at him and readjusted his jaw. "To—" He sucked in a breath and clenched his fists and let it out, all at once.

"Why, Mr. Edgeworth?" The words hung in the air, thick as molasses. "I know you told me—but why?"

He watched Edgeworth still, fold his arms across his chest, and lower his head in deep thought. Then Edgeworth spread his arms, shook his head, and suddenly Gumshoe was reminded of the first time he'd seen him in court—proud, unwavering.

"Show me a better system, Detective." His eyes were challenging, dark with passion. "Show me."

Gumshoe looked at the former prosecutor for a long time. Edgeworth stood up and sighed. "Well, that was a nice conversation, but I do have my own work to mind, Detective. If you would leave me to my business?" He dragged a suitcase from behind him—it was the yellow one, Gumshoe noticed, the one from the airplane incident—and stood at the door, turning around, closing his eyes. Gumshoe thought he could see him memorizing the corners of the room, the dank smell of coffee, from the first time he'd accidentally crushed a paper cup in his hand, mixing in with lavender, from when Gumshoe had tried to lighten the air in the room.

"I'll see you later, Detective," Edgeworth said then, finally opening his eyes. "It was very nice working with you, for the most part." He turned to leave.

"Mr. Edgeworth!"

Edgeworth swivelled back around. Gumshoe was beaming, his right hand raised against his forehead in a firm salute.

"I'll see you in court, pal!"

He could see the corner of Edgeworth's lips quirk upwards. "Thank you, Detective."

And he walked on, the wheels on the suitcase rolling on merrily as the door closed behind him, while Gumshoe watched—would always, always just be watching.

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><p><em>Owari<em>

_2011.11.11_


End file.
